THE SWAMP by Elszy
by Elszy
Summary: John and Dorian are on dangerous turf when they follow a suspect from a robbery. But they get into a lot more trouble than they'd bargained for...
1. Chapter 1

THE SWAMP by Elszy

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Pt 1

John woke up with a burning sensation all through his upper body combined with the mother of all headaches and a distinct feeling of nausea. He couldn't remember the last time his head felt like this, and he was no stranger to headaches or hangovers, for that matter. But this was different, as if he had been gulping down lots and lots of the poor quality whiskey that the old guy at Freddie's bar sometimes tried to sell him. Out of habit his hand moved downwards and his fingers touched the sensitive stump where once a leg had been. Before he went back to work he used to have nightmares, practically every night. But since he rejoined the force, he slept better. The phantom pain in his leg was still there, and he was told it would never completely go away, but all in all he had to admit that the synthetic leg worked better than he had expected.

Speaking of which - what in God's name had he done? Why was he feeling so… so weak?

'Oi. Look who's awake,' said a female voice in an unmistakable Scottish accent.

_Dorian? _Was that accent one of the android's pranks? 'Nnggddd…' That didn't sound like his own voice, that was just a lot of hoarse cracking and grunting. His lips were dry as cork and he noticed how thirsty he was. He opened his eyes, felt a stab of pain from the light that shot through his optical nerves and realized - he wasn't in his own bed. Where the hell…

He tried to push himself up, but he fell back before he even got to a sitting position. A white-hot stab of pain in his chest and his back momentarily took his breath away. The bed swayed like the sea and even with his eyes closed, he could feel everything swirling around him.

He panted and he must have moaned, because the woman said: 'Stay down, stay down. You're in no condition to go anywhere. Not until you have _that_ in your system.'

That? That what? Confused, he blinked his eyes to get the cloudiness away and after a while the face that matched the voice came in view. _That_ appeared to be an IV of some kind. Dark. Blood?

'Hi,' said the woman. She was about 25 years old, with a mop of unkempt brown hair and brown eyes, and lots and lots of freckles.

'Hi,' John managed to say.

'Here, have a sip. You've been out for more than a day, I don't want you to get dehydrated.'

More than wha… a day? Things got more confusing by the minute.

'How…' It took him a lot of effort to speak, until she pushed a straw between his lips and he could drink. The water was cool and refreshing.

'Not too much, not too fast,' she warned and pulled the straw and the cup away. 'If you can keep that down without getting sick, you can have more. And I'll get you something with a little more substance. My name is Milla, by the way. Milla Redding.'

After this introduction John allowed himself to take in his surroundings. He wasn't in a bed, but on a couch in a living room. His leg was on the table, surrounded by equipment and wiring, and he thought he saw a charger. The room was plain, a bit messy, with lots of books, computer stuff and more electronic equipment. Books… John's father liked books made of paper, but he was one of the few. John hadn't met many people who still held on to the space consuming paper books. Why p-books when digital editions were easy to come buy and were always the latest version?

Because, his father would say, there's nothing like the real thing. A book. An object that you can hold in your hand, smell, leaf through and already feel what it will be like, even before you've read one chapter.

Perhaps his father had been right. There was a sense of importance and honesty about p-books. The books on the shelves in this small living room certainly understated that sentiment.

'How did I get here?' he asked after a while, his voice still unfamiliar to his own ears.

Milla sat down on the coffee table next to the couch and touched his forehead, checking his temperature. 'Oops, you're still pretty warm, John. Too warm, I can tell. It's the infection. What? How you got here? Easy. I brought you in, you're in my flat. How you got in the boot of my car, I don't know. I was hoping you could tell me.'

'… the boot… the trunk of… your car…?'

'Yeah.' She seemed to notice his bewilderment, because she smiled reassuringly and said: 'You're at a loss, I can tell. Here's what happened. I went out for groceries, came back and found you in the car. My first impulse was to call the police, but then I found your ID and I reckon that you hadn't hidden in my car for nothing, otherwise you would have called your colleagues, right?'

'… errr…'

'Anyways, there was a hole in your chest, and - luckily for me **and** for you - an exit wound in your back. Seemed like a good idea to take you in and get that cleaned up before you'd smear your blood all over my car. So, someone shot you. Who did you piss off to get stuck with this detail?'

Milla spoke very fast which sapped what little energy John had from him. He leaned back deeper into the pillows and closed his eyes. She chatted on about him being heavy and blood loss, synthetic energy disruption signals and a lot of other things he couldn't quite grasp. He tried to get his mind around it, but it was too difficult to focus right now. More than a day… he had been shot… he'd been in a car trunk…

'… where's… gun?'

'I don't know. There was no gun when I found you.'

'…'

'Ah, you poor soul. Look at you. I'm wearing you out, I can tell? Well, you get some sleep and when you're awake and feeling better, we'll talk some more. For now, don't you worry. I've got everything covered.'

John wanted to say something. _Thank you _did sound appropriate, yet the words didn't reach his lips. Dorian? What happened to Dorian? Where did he go? was the last thing John thought before he drifted off to sleep again.

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	2. Chapter 2

Pt 2

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John slept another twelve hours and only once woke up to a quiet, darkened room. Vaguely he gathered it must be night time and what-was-her-name-again was most likely in bed and asleep. He was scared and uncomfortable and everything hurt and he couldn't move or roll over and for God's sake what was wrong with his leg and his chest and… and… and…

When he opened his eyes again, light was pouring in from outside and the sounds of the city waking up reached his ears. The air carried the smell of coffee and fried eggs.

He wasn't hungry, but his stomach churned. He needed something light to eat and as if on command, the freckled woman stepped in, carrying a tray with a bowl and a cup of tea.

Tea? Tea was for girls. John drank coffee.

'No coffee for you,' she said, which told John he'd probably spoken out loud. 'It wouldn't go down well, you'd throw up all over the place. Remember me? Milla?'

'Sure,' he lied.

'Yeah right,' she laughed and helped him sit up. 'How are you feeling?'

'Terrific,' he grunted. Gawd, his chest hurt. His back hurt. Everything was very painful, felt as if it was ripped in two every time he moved or took a deep breath.

'I reckon you've got some bruised ribs, that's why it hurts so badly,' she explained. 'Plus of course the bullet hole.'

'You think…?'

'There's no need for sarcasm,' Milla corrected him. 'I'm only telling you what is going on with you. You're free to leave if my ministrations are not to your satisfaction.'

John had the decency to feel embarrassed. Milla had helped, without her he'd probably ended up in a casket and his bitterness was his way to express his gratitude?

'I'm sorry,' he said in a soft tone. 'I didn't mean it like that. I'm a lousy patient.'

'Yes you are. But you're forgiven. For now.'

He produced a weak apologetic smile, ate slowly and quietly, nibbled on some crackers and tried to take shallow breaths. Milla had breakfast too, she wolfed down toast and fried eggs and looked like she enjoyed it thoroughly.

'Who's Dorian?' she suddenly asked. 'Good guy or bad guy?'

Dorian?

'How do you know…?' he began but she interrupted him before he could finish his sentence.

'You mumbled his name a couple of times. Is he your boyfriend?' she asked while pointing her fork at him.

'No. No!'

Milla sniggered. 'You don't need to look so uncomfortable. Everyone's entitled to their own sexual preference.'

'It's a bot I'm paired up with. Not by choice, but by police regulation. Dorian's a bot. A synthetic.'

'Ah.' Milla nodded. 'I see. An MX? I thought they're all called Max.'

John took a moment to take some painful breaths before he swallowed a few spoons full of soup. The crackers were dry and hard to swallow, the soup went down better.

'No. He's not an MX. He's a DRN.'

That evoked a surprised look on Milla's face and she said, while a wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows: 'DRNs were decommissioned because of their unpredictable and sometimes erratic behavior, weren't they?'

'Yeah. But this one's been revamped, and he's doing alright. I should…' John put the spoon down and closed his eyes. He was overcome by a dizzy spell. In a second Milla jumped up, took the tray from him and eased him down. 'Hey, take it easy. That's enough exertion for now.'

Exertion? He hadn't done anything but sit up and eat. He tried to, but he couldn't fight the fatigue. Vaguely he monitored Milla scurrying around in the room and covering him gently with a fresh blanket. Soon he was succumbed to sleep.

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	3. Chapter 3

pt 3

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'Finally!'

Rudy's voice was the first that Dorian heard while his systems came back to life. He opened his eyes while the surge of energy set all his firmware, hardware and software in active mode. Diagnostics began to run, Dorian could feel the soft buzz awakening his body.

'Dorian, welcome back! Mate, I thought we'd lost you forever,' said Rudy and pointed a penlight and a tiny laser welder at his temple. A quick look down told Dorian his legs had been screwed off. A new pair stood ready against the far wall. 'Sorry for this, you're not entirely up and running but at least your senses work and…'

There was no voice. Dorian had no inkling how he could produce sound. His voice pattern was non-present, he scanned his on- and offline systems and found nothing. He looked at Rudy who stood bowed over him, wearing magnifying glasses and working on him in his usual fidgety way.

'Where's John, Dorian? Do you know what happened?'

John? Dorian delved into his memory banks. Blank. The last image he could produce was stepping into a charger cell, John wasn't present, he'd gone home. John? He had no idea. Quickly he consulted date and time from the international atomic time center and did the math: he missed 37 hours, 43 minutes and 7 seconds since his most recent backup. He had been out of the system for over a day.

'Dorian, where's John?'

Dorian lifted his hand and tapped his mouth. Thankfully that part of his coordination was working properly.

'O. Oh! Oh, not all senses are back online, are they? Wait wait.' Rudy looked around, fished a tablet from under a pile of cables and pushed it into Dorian's hands. 'Here mate. Write it down. Everyone is really worried. Where is John?'

I DON'T KNOW, Dorian typed on the pad. I HAVE NO DATA SINCE THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY, 20.17 HOURS. WHAT HAS HAPPENED? Dorian typed so fast that the sentences came out as quickly as spoken words.

'We don't know,' Rudy said, welding pieces of wires and threads and cables and more unidentified matter to the remains of Dorian's legs. 'Captain Maldonado thinks you were ambushed, together with John, and he's been taken. Or dumped or… something… I have no theory yet on what they used on you; your systems were completely fried, all your software erased and much more trouble. Thank god for backups. It's a miracle I got you to work at all. Don't mind me saying, but I am a genius, sometimes.'

YOU ARE GOOD AT WHAT YOU DO, THANK YOU, Dorian typed. WE MUST FIND JOHN.

'I know, mate, but I honestly don't know where to look for him. The captain has a team on it, but at the moment to no avail,' Rudy answered with a dark, concerned look on his face.

WHERE DID YOU FIND ME?

Rudy shook his head. 'I don't know, you have to tap in to…' He stopped, Dorian was already scanning the police files and found the location and the coordinates. He brought up a city map and pinpointed the location, as Rudy had said, a small alley in a maze of alleyways that ran behind the back entrance of the Museum of 20th Century Art and 68th Street.

'That is _not_a good place to be, Dorian,' Rudy said with a cautious and warning tone in his voice. 'D'you know what the people call it? _The Swamp. _It hides whatever wants to be hidden there. People disappear in The Swamp and never come back. Bad karma.'

Quickly, Dorian scanned the police report. Apparently, he was found 21 minutes after his last check-in with the bureau. Face down, on the pavement, practically all his circuits destroyed. He'd been on fire, which was the reason why he was lying on Rudy's table without legs right now. They were damaged beyond repair. An MX who had been alarmed, had extinguished the fire and thus saved the remains of Dorian. There was no trace of John. His locator chip had either been turned off or it was broken. Scanning security footage from the obscure neighborhood hadn't revealed anything. He was last seen in a parallel street, not far from Dorian, and that was it.

'Camera's in that particular area are not very helpful,' said Rudy, breaking the silence in which Dorian took in the information in the report. 'There should be more camera's, but they get sabotaged and security drones are shot out of the sky in no time. It's small but a nightmare for police. A web of alleyways, many too small to enter with a car.'

SO JOHN IS IN THAT AREA?

'I don't know, mate. I wish I could tell you.' Rudy sighed, shook his head and adjusted his glasses. 'Don't move Dorian. I'll get your speech up and running.'

Finding John was paramount. Dorian had more than enough ways to contact the police if he had to, he didn't need his voice for that. But he couldn't go anywhere in this state. NO. MY LEGS FIRST, IF YOU'D PLEASE.

Rudy met Dorian's eyes. 'But…'

Dorian grabbed the tech's arm. MY LEGS. PLEASE.

He needn't say more. Rudy understood why that was more pressing right now.

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	4. Chapter 4

Pt 4

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Milla was at work at the table, a frown of concentration etched on her face, when John woke up for the third time since he'd been here. Or was it the fourth time? Or the fifth? He couldn't remember. He watched her in silence for a while, while he tried to get his mind around all that happened. The last thing he recalled was a report of a shootout in a drug store and a young perp who ran like hell with the loot in a bag in his hands. Dorian told John the cashier in the store had been killed.

They chased him, lost him for a few minutes and picked up his trail again as he headed for District 17, which John also knew as The Swamp: a cobweb of alleyways and passages that were dark and unsafe. He also knew that once the perp reached that area, he'd be a lot harder to track. It was said that the soil in District 17 contained a lot of iron ore, causing disturbance in electronic equipment. The area was a refuge for those who sought shelter from the all-seeing eye of modern communication.

He remembered Dorian spurting after the suspect – a few more turns left and right and the robber would be gone forever. He had to cut him short and ran left, into another alley which was likely to cross with the one Dorian had run into. Then he heard Dorian call out his name and he ran even faster to intercept the robber.

He squeezed his eyes shut as the memory of the gun and a shot suddenly hit him and he could practically feel the pain as the bullet hit him high in his chest and send him backwards, where he smashed into a wall and then fell to the ground.

After that, it got darker. He couldn't quite remember what happened next, but there was a distinct feeling of approaching danger. Vague flashes of him staggering and stumbling towards an old car came to the surface. An old car… a classic. A Ford Iguana, '33. A squeak sounded. That was when he pulled open the trunk, which was unlocked. He shuddered and bit his lower lip. It all came back, although confusing and unclear but he recalled the smell of the upholstery and rubber and tires and gas.

'…How… the bullet… I did wear a vest…' he croaked.

Milla's head shot up, she blinked a few times to focus before she took her magnifying glasses off and put them down on the table. Then she stood up, strode over to John and handed him a glass of water.

'Sure you did, but that was an armor piercing bullet. Sliced through you like a hot knife through butter. In a way you were lucky the vest changed the trajectory of the bullet enough to avert it away from your heart.'

She helped him sit up, which deprived him of his breath for a few seconds.

'Easy does it,' she shushed him. His hands trembled.

'Armor piercing bullet?' he echoed and willed the pain away.

'Yes. Nasty things, they are. Illegal too, I know. But here, in The Swamp, money gets you any kind of weapon you want. Or bullet. Or anything else.'

'I'm in The Swamp?'

'Yeah. But you're safe here.' Again she touched his forehead and checked his pulse. 'Let's check on the wound. I'll change the dressing, if you're up to it.'

_Up to it? _John thought._ It's not like I'm not used to some rough stuff. _But that was until Milla peeled off the gauze under the dressings. He pressed his lips to a thin line and swallowed back bile that rose from deep within. An almost animalistic groan of pain escaped his lips.

'I'm so sorry, I'll be as quick as possible,' Milla whispered but kept working - fast and efficient. 'Fibers of your clothing and some of the kevlar of the vest have been dragged through the wound, so to speak. It was pretty infected, you've got a temperature still. But it's not as ominously red as it was.' She applied some drops from a glass bottle to the wound in his chest and repeated, under muttering excuses for hurting him, the procedure on his back. 'This is a cocktail of antibiotics, it cleans the wounds. It's also a painkiller, so you'll start to feel better soon.'

By the time Milla was done, John had been provided with new, cooling, disinfecting gauzes and a thick bandage wrapped around his torso to keep it all in place, he was drained. Milla's light chatter had died and quietly she looked at him and offered him a rueful smile. She went to the bathroom, came back with a cool wash cloth and wiped his face with it.

'Now you rest,' she said softly and ran the back of her index finger over his cheek, but this time not to check his temperature. There was concern expressed in that tender gesture. Then she went back to the table, back to work on John's leg.

He dozed off but not much later he woke up again. 'What's wrong with that thing?' he asked and put so much emphasis on the last word that there was no mistake about what he meant.

This time Milla didn't look up. 'Fried. Like chicken. I'm trying to get it up and running again.'

'Do you know how to do that?'

Milla didn't answer but used a _Blue Burner Welder_ to connect a number of chips, diodes and wires. The bright blue light reflected on her face and gave it a strange, unearthly glow.

'Hey, what do you for a living? You're a doctor, you know about guns and bullets, you're fixing an artificial limb… what are you? Who are you?'

Back was the light, evasive tone in her voice. 'I'm not a doctor, you silly. Don't you think I did that on my own. I asked for help when I found you. A friend of mine is a doctor, he's good, he owes me and I trust him. He treated you and provided the medication. I'm just executing his instructions.'

'Milla… you didn't answer my question. Who are you? What do you do?'

She shrugged, suddenly self-conscious and apparently uncomfortable. 'I've got some experience with synthetics like this and I'm interested in the technology, that's all.'

She lowered the protective dark goggles from her hair back in place and cut short any questions John had, by turning on the welder, effectively drowning out sound and the need to speak.

John leant back. He had to let the bureau know he was alright, but maybe Milla was involved in something illegal. He didn't know anyone who lived in The Swamp unless he had something to hide. Maybe all that tinkering with technology she did was something that should not be seen in the light of day.

'Where's my phone?' he asked when Milla put the welder down and lowered the intensity of the laser light.

'On the table, right next to you…' John held it before she was able to finish her sentence. '…but it's broken too. Fried as well.'

Shit.

'Can I use your phone? Your communicator?' he asked and all of a sudden realized no one had responded to his locator chip. 'I need to contact my work. My colleagues.'

'This guy Dorian you talked about?'

'Not a guy. A synthetic. Yes, him too.'

Milla sighed and put her gear down. She shoved the goggles aside, turned off the Blue Burner, stood up and lowered herself on the couch next to John.

'Before you start making calls… there's something you should know.'

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	5. Chapter 5

Pt 5

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Dorian walked briskly from one glass wall to the other, pivoted on his heels, walked over to the other side of the room and repeated that over and over again in the presence of Valerie Stahl, Sandra Maldonado, Richard Paul and Rudy Lom. Two MX's stood guard outside the glass doors and stared without expression into nothingness.

'Sit down, Dorian,' detective Paul barked, annoyed. 'You're making me crazy.'

Dorian threw him an impatient look as he was still unable to speak, so Rudy took over. 'It's better that he walks, Richard. His new legs still need to calibrate and the best way to do that is by using them intensively.'

'Walk as much as you want to, Dorian,' said Maldonado with an encouraging nod. 'Rudy, what have you found?'

'Dorian and I have been going over the events and we might know what caused the fire that nearly destroyed Dorian,' Rudy said and tapped a bit on a keyboard. On the screen overhead a schematic appeared. 'Ladies and gents, you are looking at a very, very impressive piece of hardware. It is as beautiful as it is ingenious, but also… it is very… the architecture is stunning… the wiring and connections are almost abundant… the second insulated core…'

'Rudy!' Captain Maldonado interrupted the tech who got carried away by what he saw. 'Get to the point. What is this? And what has it got to do with Dorian or John? In layman's terms, if you would, please?'

'…Errr… I'm sorry, Captain. It's just… well, right. This device is commonly referred to as an EMN, an Electro Mag Net. Mind the word Net, because that's what it is. It's based on an experiment to produce energy by forcing positive and negative ions from magnetized particles to collide. The energy that was generated in the process looked very promising at first, but it soon turned out to be highly unstable. The project was cancelled.'

Maldonado asked: 'Unstable how?'

'By default electronic equipment is very sensitive to magnets. You want to destroy a computer? Run a few powerful magnets over the hard drives and all your data is gone. Twenty-five years ago that was still the major concern and while techniques have improved enormously, magnets can still cause considerable damage to computers.'

'And you're telling us that this EMN did just that?' detective Paul asked.

Rudy looked at Dorian, pacing up and down in the room, and nodded. 'Yes. In fact, the Mag Net works like a cobweb for magnetic particles. I, we - Dorian and me - believe that such a web was set up in the alleyway where Dorian ran into. The collision of the particles I just described was so brutal that it caused a major short-circuit which then resulted in a fire.'

Stahl squinted a bit before she said: 'An MX put out the fire. How come his circuits didn't catch fire? He must have been in this web as well.'

'That's what is special about this. I think - we think - that Dorian was targeted. That the device was turned off once it did what it did.'

'How bad is the damage to him?' asked Valerie.

'Dorian's system is back upped every time he steps into the charger, so that was restored without too much difficulty,' Rudy explained. 'There's also some residual data from the time before the EMN-attack. Dorian is analyzing those bits and pieces as we speak. Once that's being processed, we might have some leads.'

A short nod from Dorian confirmed Rudy's explanation.

Maldonado, who had been listening quietly, looked from the screen with the schematic to Dorian and to Rudy and then said: 'Who was the initial developer of that device?'

Rudy answered: 'A man named Saren, owner of Saren Ltd. A small firm specialized in magnetic innovations.'

Dorian removed the schematic from the screen and brought up an image of an ID-card. 'Argus Saren was found dead in his development lab after the raid that wiped out tactical squad Bravo One-Seven, killed Martin Pelham, and severely injured John Kennex. The lab was situated in the basement of the building,' Valerie Stahl read out loud.

Everyone pondered on that information for a moment. It was the Captain who put to words what everyone thought. 'Has inSyndicate found that device and used it to shut off Dorian? Was this a deliberate attack on Dorian to get to John alone?'

THAT IS HIGHLY LIKELY, typed Dorian. The blue lights in his face lit up. His normally bright eyes seemed darker, fed by deep worry.

'Rudy, are there more Mag Nets like that? Do you know?'

The tech shook his head. 'Not likely. But, I can't be sure. Hopefully it's just one Net in one location.'

Valerie was in deep thought, then said: 'It must be possible to find the location from where this Mag Net was fired. You said the device triggered a lot of energy, right? So, can we not look for unusual energy readings the day that John and Dorian were attacked? Electricity companies keep track of usage of the entire city.'

'Yes! That's an excellent idea!' Rudy said enthusiastically.

'Alright,' Maldonado nodded. 'Do it, Valerie. To work. Richard, assemble a team of men, have the MX's on standby if we are to enter The Swamp. Dorian, I don't want you anywhere near District 17, not while that machine is still there. There might not be a next time if you're targeted again.'

Dorian nodded. Everyone left the room, but Dorian quickly stepped over to the Captain and put his hand on her arm. 'What is it, Dorian?'

I AM SORRY I LOST JOHN OUT OF MY SIGHT, he typed.

'It's not your fault, Dorian,' Maldonado said, touched by the concern the android showed. Dorian typed again.

JOHN'S LEG MIGHT ALSO HAVE BEEN DAMAGED. IF SO, HE IS IMPAIRED AND UNABLE TO WALK.

Sandra Maldonado nodded. 'Yes, Dorian. I thought of that too. Let's hope Rudy was right and there's only one such a device. Come on. Let's set up a plan to find your partner.'

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	6. Chapter 6

Pt 6

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'Have you ever seen this before?' Milla asked and handed John a little glass vial which contained a tiny object, about the size of a grain of rice.

'No. What is it?'

'It's called a BAT, that's short for _Blood Analysis Tag_. It's state of the art technology. It gives off readings of vital signs directly measured from inside a person's body.'

John looked at the tiny thing inside the vial. 'Where did you get this?'

'It was embedded in the soft tissue of your hip.'

'What?!'

'Don't worry. It's dead. I've disabled it. In fact, before I did your temperature was spiking. That's why you've got a headache too. It's like kicking a habit. That thing gave off wrong information to your body. On purpose.'

Milla took a swig from steaming hot coffee she drank from a huge mug with a retro image of Captain America on it. The smell was good, but John wasn't sure his stomach was up to coffee yet. Reluctantly, he kept to tea and crackers.

'I really don't understand a word you're saying,' John said with a shake of his head.

'While you were out, I did some research of my own. You've been in hospital for a long time, right? Seventeen months?'

'Longer. I was in a coma for seventeen months. After that it took me three months to recover enough to leave.'

'The BAT was put in your hip while you were in a coma. It monitors what is going on inside a patient, and adjusts medication and treatment instantly, without any human interference, 24 hours a day. It works fully autonomically and tries to make the body cure itself. The idea is excellent: go to the source of the problem and cure it from the inside out. The biggest problem is that BATs are still in an experimental phase, they are expensive and only used in very precarious circumstances, and – as far as I know – only when they're being paid for. Insurance doesn't cover the usage of BATs.'

'I don't know anything about this,' John said confused.

'The downside of a BAT is that it can be hacked quite easily and fed wrong information. Seems to me that once you were shot, the BAT began to adjust the increase of your white corpuscles. That results, amongst others, in high fever, headaches and a lot more nastiness. If I hadn't found it and taken it out, you would have died from this so called curing treatment.'

'Are you telling me that **that **thing is responsible for me feeling like this?'

'Yeah. But it was altered to act like this by someone. Not by its original setup. So John, ask yourself: who ordered you to have a BAT, who paid for it? If that is someone in your department? Your captain? One of your colleagues?'

'… I… I don't know…'

'There's something else,' Milla continued. 'Before you were shot, you were chasing a guy who robbed a store, right? Early this morning, the body of Robbie Coltrane has been found on the banks across the river, in District 23. He was the guy you followed. Word in The Swamp has it that Robbie ran some errands for inSyndicate.'

'What kind of errands?'

'Luring people to a particular spot, perhaps?' Milla avoided John's baffled glare. 'I'm not sure, it's just what I heard. Story has it that you were in the presence of an android – this Dorian you told me about – and he needed to be taken down before they got to you. I looked it up: there was an energy spike, not far from here, the evening of the shooting, when you crawled into my car. More than enough to cause some kind of electromagnetic disturbance, enough too to fry the electrical circuits in your synthetic leg. It is possible that the people who targeted you and your friend Dorian, have reprogrammed the BAT so they knew where to find you, once Robbie Coltrane got you into The Swamp. Where you were, your android partner was likely to follow while on the job, right?'

John was perplexed. 'And after taking Dorian down, they would come for me…'

'Yup. That's most likely. Who shot you, do you remember that?'

John shook his head slowly. Every now and then he had a blurred vision of the robber, wearing a dark brown cap and holding a gun, but it could have been anyone, not per se the robber. Maybe that image was just in his mind.

'So, you can use my phone. Of course. And my computer. But if there's someone inside your group of trustees who had the BAT placed on you, I'm not sure if that's a good idea. Basically, what it all comes down to is, who do you trust?'

The two of them fell quiet for a long time. John ran over the possibilities. Some had put this BAT-thing in him. Who? Who could be the insider? Was there a mole in the bureau, who passed information on to inSyndicate and at the same time had full access to everything in the bureau? Or was it all a coincidence and had the police paid for the BAT by means of compensation for what John was going through?

Milla was right. Who **did** he trust? Sandra Maldonado. One hundred percent. Valerie? Yeah. Probably. Most likely she was one of the good guys. Richard? Richard Paul was a dickhead and disliked John a lot. He hadn't made it a secret that he held John responsible for the death of all those men in the squadron. But working for inSyndicate? Richard? No. He couldn't really believe that. Despite their differences and arguments, Richard was a straight up guy. And a good cop too. There were some people in the force who could **perhaps** sympathize with inSyndicate, although even that sounded unlikely. As far as John was concerned, the real threat were those damn MX police bots. They could carry around any kind of device, be reprogrammed, infected with a computer virus or god knows what other kind of creepy stuff. Dorian? Would he ever suspect Dorian? Not really, not if it was up to Dorian's intentions, but heck – he too was a robot, an android, a piece of machinery that could carry out orders as part of sneaky programming.

'So, you're telling me that inSyndicate hacked that tagging thingy and they knew exactly where I was the moment I entered The Swamp and waited for me with a gun, right?' A thought pushed itself up. 'And how about Dorian?'

Milla grew a bit restless and got to her feet. She walked to the room and looked outside, through one-way mirrored glass. 'How about him? I told you chances are that he's broken beyond repair.'

A pang of regret rushed through John's chest. He had not taken kindly to being paired up with a robot instead of a real partner, but he'd come to appreciate Dorian and he liked him. After all, a part of Dorian was human, and a part of John was synthetic. All things considered, the two of them had more in common than he was willing to admit.

But could he trust Dorian? Even if it wasn't the android's fault if he'd been compromised?

He shoved the blankets aside and put his foot on the ground. The rustle made Milla turn and she rushed toward him and put her hand on his shoulder.

'Oi! Where do you think you're going?'

'Off this couch.'

'But…'

'How long before I can use my leg again?'

'I'm not sure,' she stuttered, taken aback by his gruff tone.

'Then get me something I can use as a crutch in the meantime.' When John saw her startled face, he softened. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. It's just that I'm tired of lying here and do nothing. I need the bathroom. Help me up, please?'

'If you throw up over my floor, I'll break your leg,' Milla said with a stern look, her tension quickly resolving by John's apology. 'Your **real** leg, that is.'

John grinned and didn't throw up, but the pain he felt when he got up with Milla's assistance, the dark spots that encircled his vision instantly, almost made him regret his decision. By the time he had been to the bathroom and back, he was exhausted and sweating like a pig.

Contacting the mothership would have to wait a little longer, he thought before he closed his eyes and sank away into a restless sleep.

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	7. Chapter 7

Pt 7

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'Captain? I've found something,' Valerie informed Maldonado. She opened up a screen which showed a few photos of a young man. 'This is Robert Coltrane, 20 years old. He's got a record for petty theft and arson. Dorian told us he and John responded to an emergency call from the switchboard, but there's nothing on record here.'

'A fake call?'

'Yes. So we went through footage in the area, and we found this guy, Coltrane. He was the one John and Dorian were chasing. This morning his body washed ashore on the river banks in District 23. The coroner's preliminary report says he drowned, but he was forcefully held under water. Forensics say that he must have been thrown in the river in District 17.'

'Near The Swamp, where John disappeared.' Maldonado listened intently while observing Valerie Stahl closely. She was an asset to the team with her sharp, analytical mind. Next to that she seemed to have a good influence on the testosterone-ridden men in the bureau.

'I did a background search on Robbie Coltrane and I found this.' She pulled up an image of a young Robbie on the screen, a juvenile delinquent record appearing next to the image. 'He's been working for inSyndicate ever since he was a kid.'

'InSyndicate,' mumbled Maldonado. 'It was a setup from the start. It wasn't a robbery, it was a way to get John into The Swamp – alone.'

'There's more, captain,' Valerie said and pulled up a new image. 'Guess who I ran into while going over Coltrane's connections?'

'What?! Are you sure?' Maldonado froze at the sight of the face in front of her.

'Yes. I'm afraid so.'

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	8. Chapter 8

Pt 8

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Another day had passed and finally, John began to feel a little better. The antibiotics were kicking in at last and the pain in his chest had subdued to a bearable level. His temperature was back to normal, he could eat without feeling sick to his stomach and he was able to move around a little, on a pair of crutches that Milla got him.

'The leg seems to be working,' Milla said with a bit of reserve. 'It's in the charger, but seems to respond alright. It'll take a while before you can use it, though. I had to do quite a bit of rerouting to get it to work. The charger cell was not meant for a leg.'

'No,' John said slowly while watching the equipment on the table. 'Because it's for your arm, right?'

Milla hid her right arm almost instantly behind her back. It was a gesture she made out of reflex rather than shame.

'Why didn't you tell me?'

She shrugged. 'I don't like to talk about it. Don't think about it either. How did you notice? When?'

'When you told me you'd helped me up to your apartment. I have vague recollections of you supporting, almost dragging me along, while we got up here. You're petite, how can you keep me standing on my feet? That needed a lot of strength. Then I saw the charging modules and I added one and one. I've seen a lot of them during my time in the hospital. I know what is used for a leg, and which one charges an arm.' He put his hand on her left shoulder, one crutch dangling from his arm. 'This is hospital equipment. It shouldn't be here, you should have a custom made charger. How and when did you lose your arm?'

Milla was clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation. Her freckles seemed to disappear under the redness of her cheeks. Softly she said, after a tense silence: 'It happened during the Great Quake. I was trapped under a concrete wall for days. When they found me, my arm was beyond salvation.' There was more to come, John knew it and he kept quiet. 'There was lot of damage. I had, amongst others, a kidney transplant and a lung replaced.'

'Why did you take the hospital charger?'

Suddenly her head shot up, frustration and deep emotional pain radiating from her face. 'It wasn't fair. After I'd recovered from the surgery and the transplantations, they put me on the street with a little s-s-s-stump because the insurance company wouldn't pay for a synthetic arm. They said I had been given enough. That's literally what they said! _You've been given enough! _As if it was something I had asked for to happen.'

'Alright, alright, don't get angry. I'm not judging you,' John said, surprised by her sudden outburst. He felt guilty for bringing the subject up, it clearly upset her. Her defensiveness was apparent and her hurt grabbed his heart like a cold hand.

'Sorry,' she mumbled and hid her embarrassment by tying the shoelace of one of her boots.

Still, John was curious. 'Where did you get the synthetic?'

It took a long time before Milla replied and when she spoke her voice was frail. 'I took it from a murder victim, here in The Swamp. I removed the production and the serial number so it couldn't be traced. The guy upstairs, the doctor who treated you, got me the charger. He'd been expelled from St. Maxim Medical Centre and his grudge was enough reason to nick a charger for me.

Of course the arm wasn't compatible with my tissue and my bone structure, and I had to figure out how to make it work. The arm and the charger didn't match either, and I had to get that running as well. That's how I got interested in the matter, that's why I was able to restore yours.'

'And is that the reason why you're still living here? In The Swamp? Because your secret is safe here?'

That made her angry. 'No! There _are_ decent people in The Swamp, more than you think. I have a job, I took time off to help you! I pay taxes, I don't get myself in trouble. Sometimes circumstances force people to do bad things. Yes, The Swamp has a bad name, but this is my home. Stay away from trouble and it stays away from you, haven't you ever heard that? Besides, the rent is cheap, this place is nice, so why not live here?' Her voice had risen defensively.

'Hey, I know what it's like to have to lose a limb, I know what it's like to look at the spot where once your arm was. I know what it's like when you're told that calibration is incomplete. It stinks.' He balanced on his one foot and put both his hands on Milla's shoulders. 'Look at me, Milla. I'm not judging you. You've saved my life and I am very, very grateful. You can be proud of yourself.'

Milla was still uncomfortable and carefully, not to make John lose his balance, wiggled away from under his hands. She put her hand protectively over her synthetic arm, as if she wanted to hold it in place and shield it from unwanted viewers.

'Once the leg is charged, I'll bring you home,' she said brusquely. 'They don't take kindly to police here. I've taken a lot of risk taking you in and I'm not going to jeopardize that by showing you off in the streets. We'll leave tonight, when it's dark.' John had the feeling he had treaded on dangerous ground. Something in the way she avoided his eyes, told him he'd entered a world in which she didn't want him.

It was time to make a phone call.

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	9. Chapter 9

pt 9

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'We've been able to pinpoint the firing position of the EMN-device,' Valerie announced. She brought up a map of District 17, enlarged it and tapped on a red dot. An image of a four story building popped up. 'An apartment on the first floor, over Harry's Bar. Richard has got a team ready.'

'Good work. Get over there and get that thing out.' Valerie went back to her station and Richard left for the designated area when the phone in the captain's office rang. Sandra Maldonado sighed, closed the glass doors behind her and rested her hand on the phone for a second. A call from outside. Probably an MX to report about traffic offenders. _Stupid, brainless machines, _flashed through her. She pushed the negative thoughts away and answered the call.

'Maldonado.'

'Sandra? It's me.' A deep voice, warm and more welcoming now than a blanket on a cold winter's day.

'John! John, where are you? Are you alright?' She lowered herself in her chair and squeezed the phone until her knuckles turned white.

'Yeah, I'm fine. Is Dorian with you?'

'Yes, he's here. Where are you? What's happened?'

'District 17, I'm staying at a friend's house.'

'You're in The Swamp? Thank God you're okay,' Sandra heaved a sigh of relief. 'I've issued a raid on a place called Harry's Bar. Don't get caught in the crossfire.'

'What? Where?'

'That's in The Swamp, so be careful.'

The glass door flew open and Rudy stormed in, looking even skinnier and paler than he usually did. 'Captain! Sorry to disturb your call, but Dorian's gone!'

'What? Where…?'

'I think he's going to look for John. He took off the second we located where the initial blast from the EMN came from!'

'I've got John on the phone. He's alright.' She ignored Rudy's dumbfounded face, and barked at the MX who stood in the corner of her office, that he had to call Dorian and order him back to the bureau.

'I am sorry, captain. The DRN named Dorian does not respond to my call,' the MX said.

'Try again,' snapped Maldonado, 'and keep at it until he answers.'

'Errr… captain, he might not be able to hear that. Not everything works as it should. His comms might still be offline.' Rudy cleared his throat to hide his nervousness. Maldonado could be hard as nails sometimes.

'He ignored a direct order from me, and he understood me just fine when I told him to stay the hell away from The Swamp,' she said. 'John? Are you still there?'

'I am, Sandra. Dorian's taken off?'

'Yes. Probably in search of you. John, he was almost toast when we found him, not everything has been repaired yet. If he runs into the EMN, he might not survive again.'

'The EM-what?'

'I'll fill you in on the details later. For now, you have to make sure that Dorian doesn't get to Harry's. I'll send you the exact location.'

'I'm not completely equipped to go outside yet,' John told her and explained in a few words the damage to his leg. 'Sandra… this was a setup.'

'Yes, we know. Robbie Coltrane placed a fake call to your cruiser and you and Dorian responded, Rudy managed to retrieve that much from residual data in Dorian's memory banks. He was part of inSyndicate. Valerie's found his face on inSyndicate surveillance tapes. I have to go, John.'

'Sandra, wait. Do you know what a BAT is? Have you ever issued one for me?'

Maldonado could tell from John's question that it was important. 'I have no idea what you're talking about. A bat?'

'B-A-T. Never mind, I'll explain everything later. Send the data on the raid to this number, my phone is busted. I'll try to get to Dorian before he goes there.'

'Yes, hurry John. He's able to knock down any MX who stands in his way right now. Be careful.'

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	10. Chapter 10

pt 10

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'I can't wait any longer, Milla. I have to go. Dorian's coming this way and I need to find him before he storms into these streets and gets himself hurt.'

'You want to go like that?' John's leg was far from ready, but when he attached it, he could feel his balance returning and the leg began to run its' usual routine. 'Energy level at 13 percent, calibration incomplete,' the all too familiar female voice spoke out loud. John grinned at Milla. 'Now that's _almost_ music to my ears. Thanks Milla, it feels good.'

'13 percent isn't very much,' Milla said with obvious disdain. 'Here, put this on. You stand out like a lighthouse in your uniform.' She handed him a navy blue hooded sweatshirt, a navy blue cap and a thick, brick-red scarf. While he put it on, Milla also put on a jacket.

'What are you doing?'

'I'm coming with you. You don't know your way here and people are likely to spot you if you're out there alone.'

'There's no need, I can take care…'

'Don't argue,' Milla said. 'You're unarmed, your vest is in the trash, you have no idea of where you're going. I'm coming with you. Let's go.'

John understood that resisting was futile, so the two of them walked down the stairs. When he saw the daylight in the hallway shining in from outside, he felt a pang of regret that he couldn't wait for the cover of night. He wasn't sure he was shot by Coltrane, it might have been someone else who pulled the trigger and who waited for him to resurface and finish the job.

'Can't you call him? Your partner?' Milla asked and guided him into a direction he would never have taken. She walked quickly, kept to narrow streets and avoided the roads where cars and more people were.

'Dorian? Nah, he doesn't have a phone. Apparently his comms are not functioning,' John said.

'Can't they put a message in his online RAM bank? That way the message will work as a bulletin board and he might see it pop up,' Milla suggested.

John stopped for a second to catch his breath. Damn, he was still sore and his stamina was far from what it should be. He eyed Milla more closely. 'You _do_ know your tech stuff, don't you?'

'Are you alright?'

'Yeah, I'm okay.' He ignored the wobbly feeling in his good leg and hoped the synthetic would hold long enough to get out of this place.

Fifteen minutes later he knew he would have been lost if Milla hadn't been with him. The Swamp was a labyrinth and all the little streets and alleys looked the same. Maybe Milla took the same turn a couple of times, he couldn't tell. All of a sudden, abruptly, she stopped and pulled John back by his arm to coerce him into another direction. 'There's something going on over there. This way.' A little further, a whole bunch of MX's were charging in on a small establishment and apparently the squadron had ran into resistance. There was a lot of noise, screaming and smoke from a grenade bellowed from the building. In between the dark clad police bots and the smoke, John spotted a familiar figure: Richard Paul. 'This is the police! Come out with your hands up!'

And then, he saw another face he knew all too well, approaching the group from the other side. Dorian!

'Come on,' Milla urged him and ushered him to another alley. 'This way. Go. You're nearly there.'

But John didn't notice her anymore. If Dorian went into Harry's, he might not come out alive, Maldonado had told him. From where he stood, following the protocol and shielded by the MX's, Richard couldn't see Dorian approaching and he led the charge. At the same moment, shots were fired from inside the building and everyone ducked for safety. All, but Dorian who sped towards the entrance of Harry's.

John didn't hesitate for a second and ran towards the MX's and police officers. Forgotten was his bad leg, his lack of a vest or a sidearm. He had to stop Dorian. It was impossible to make himself heard over the racket in the small street.

A bullet hissed by so closely that he thought he could feel the heat grazing his cheekbone. 'Dorian! Dorian!' he shouted.

MX's were shot and blown apart like shattering glass. Blue liquids splattered over the walls and the pavement, part of the group was pushed back. Dorian elbowed himself forward, pushed aside MX's who were in his way and headed for the door of Harry's Bar. 'Dorian! Dorian! No!' John shouted and knocked an MX aside. Detective Richard finally saw John, looked completely taken aback for a second and grimaced oddly before he led his team further on. He gestured to Dorian, pointed in John's direction and focused on the raid.

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	11. Chapter 11

pt 11

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Dorian saw John, coming his way, running from the other side of the tumultuous group in the narrow street. He could hear him call out, but the strange buzz he felt nearly drowned out the noise. It was… joy. He had read about it often, and there was no other way to describe it - this was pure joy. He was _happy_, relieved to see John up and about. He wanted to jump over to his partner and perhaps even offer him a hug, if ever so shortly. If he'd been in the same erratic mood as he was a couple of months back, he might have actually done it. His synthetic soul was designed to handle this kind of emotion, but it still overwhelmed him. Maybe because the low of the worry was so entirely 180 degrees the other way of the high of seeing John alive.

JOHN! He tried to call out but his voice was still offline. Over the hustle and the bustle their eyes locked and Dorian knew that John saw him.

Dorian had seen the photo that Valerie showed to the captain. Robbie Coltrane knew Anna More. And if John was here, he was looking for Anna Moore and he was bound to do something stupid. That's why Dorian ran ahead. He seemed to be the only one who was really aware of how much John's ex-girlfriend had gotten to him, and he knew without a doubt that John was going for it. Enter Harry's Bar expecting to find Anna Moore. Knowing John he'd barge in a like bull in a china cabinet.

And then everything culminated. Above the row in the street another window opened and a rifle appeared on the window sill.

JOHN! He screamed to warn him, but no sound came from his lips. Then Dorian took the biggest leap he'd ever made in his life, his new legs fully charged and functioning fantastically. He jumped over the crowd, at least thirty feet and like a cougar he lunged forward and smashed John to the ground. Two bullets grazed his arm, their trajectory exactly in the spot where John had been standing a nanosecond ago.

With a bang John's head hit the hard, uneven ground.

'Ouch!'

JOHN!

Dorian shielded John with his body. One bullet hit him in the back but was stopped by his backplate, another one grazed his chin. The noise was deafening, shots were fired from all over the place and somewhere over the racket he heard Richard Paul shouting commands. Then, just as sudden as it had started, the shooting stopped and it was over. _Clear! Clear! _was the general call that echoed off the walls in the alley.

IT'S OVER, JOHN.

'D-d-d-dori..an! Nggg… G-g-g-get… off, w-w-will ya?' John could hardly get the words out. Dorian had landed on top of him with his full weight and the android weighed at least as much as a full-grown human man, if not more. The pain in his chest was back big time and an all too familiar wetness began to soak his clothes.

Dorian got up quickly and cautiously pulled John to his feet. JOHN, ARE YOU ALRIGHT? Quickly he scanned John who looked very pale and he found the entry and exit wound in his chest. It was bleeding badly. YOU NEED A HOSPITAL.

'What's with the quiet mode, D? Talk, man!' John panted, pressing one hand on the wound in his chest and the other one on the bump on the back of his head which he felt getting bigger as he stood there. 'Shit. That hurt.' He swayed a little. Dorian's hands were only inches from him, ready to catch him if he'd fall.

A little further a freckled young woman stood pressed against a brick wall, half-hidden from view by a trash container, terror written all over her face. John, leaning on Dorian while trying to get his stance back, waved through a mist of tears toward her, gesturing to come closer, that it was safe now.

_Calibration incomplete. Energy level 3%. Systems shutting down._

She shook her head, frightened, and took a step back, further into the alley. '… Milla…' John panted. '… don't be afraid… it's over…'

But Milla retreated even further into the shadows of the crossing alleyway, suddenly turned and ran as if the devil himself was chasing her.

'Milla, stop!' John straightened himself but before he could make one more move, his leg died on him, dizziness won the battle, the world got topsy-turvy and he made a very rapid dive towards the street. Dorian's strong hands catching him before he would land face-down on the pavement, was the last conscious thing he registered before the lights went out.

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	12. Chapter 12

Pt 12

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'So, Dorian thought that you were after Anna. We thought Dorian was after you. And you thought that Dorian was going to run straight into the EMN-device. Talk about confusion.' Maldonado smiled at John, who was at home on the couch and looked considerably better than when he'd been taken to hospital. His face had not yet regained all of its color, but his eyes were bright and he seemed relaxed.

'Yeah. Good thing the device was found. And destroyed. An electromagnetic web… that's why my leg stopped working, nearly killed Dorian…'

'That BAT-story is remarkable,' said Maldonado. 'I've never heard of it before. But that inSyndicate used some kind of tracker to get you to a place where you and Dorian could be neutralized makes sense.'

_Maybe Anna was in the hospital and put that thing in me_, John mused. He shivered at the thought, but realized too it could have been anyone inside the inSyndicate group. Heck, it might have been a doctor or a nurse from the staff. InSyndicate had accomplices everywhere, in all kinds of areas. He kept that to himself. Undoubtedbly, captain Maldonado had been thinking the same and had already done some inquiries without anyone knowing about it. She probably had the hospital visitors records scanned as they spoke.

'I wish I knew who shot me,' John then said thoughtfully. 'For a while, I thought it was that Coltrane guy, but the more I think about it, the less certain I am.'

Maldonado shook her head once. 'We probably never know. Coltrane has been killed, and there are no leads whatsoever as to who did it. Might have been inSyndicate, but it might also have been an enemy Coltrane picked up over the years.'

John drank his coffee. This was how he liked it, dark roasted with a deep full taste. Gawd, how he had missed coffee.

'Did you find anything else on Coltrane? Anna?'

Maldonado pressed her lips together and shook her head. 'No. We found one photo on which you can see them talking to each other, that's it. Nothing else.' Very briefly, she put her hand on John's arm. 'I'm sorry, John. I know how important it is for you to find her.'

'I didn't even know Anna might be involved. Otherwise, Dorian might have been right and I would have risked everything and gotten in there to find her. Speaking of which - how is Dorian?'

'Under repair. His voice memory banks were damaged beyond control, even a backup restore didn't work. So Rudy's working on him right now.'

John fell quiet. He owed Dorian his life, that much was sure. John hadn't seen that he'd been targeted from high up and the android taking the bullets that were meant for him, was the reason he was here today.

'Sandra… the girl who helped me… she'd be a great asset. She's smart, she knows her way 'round all that tech stuff and I think she and Rudy would get along alright. You've often said that you could use another tech.'

'Yeah. I'll think about it. Have her call me.' Maldonado got up. 'It's good to have you back, John. You had us all worried.' She smiled, nodded and warned him, before she left: 'Don't come to work before you're okay! Or you won't hear the end of it from Dorian!'

John laughed. 'We can ask Rudy to not work too fast on restoring his voice stuff.'

-.-.-

_A week later_

Dorian looked as ever and his voice was good as gold. He smiled a lot, an apparent proof of how he good felt and how happy was that things were back to normal. John found it amusing. He never thought he'd say it, but he and Dorian had a click, and he too, felt good. Physically he still needed to take it easy, but he was back for some light duties. His leg was okay too.

'John, I found something,' said Dorian and handed him an info-sheet. The transparent sheet contained a few articles and some photo's.

'What's this?'

'I think you should read it,' Dorian said softly. The android diplomatically stepped back to give John some privacy.

It was a newspaper article.

MAN SHOT DEAD IN DISTRICT 17, said the headline. _A 41-year old man has been murdered in the district, commonly known as The Swamp. One of the suspects was 19-year old Emilia Redmond, who was believed to have shot Victor Arabel in the head. The victim was found on the riverbanks. Noteworthy was that his synthetic arm was missing. The police believes the arm to be on the bottom of the river, it has not been recovered. Charges against Emilia Redmond have been dropped. There's not sufficient evidence to tie her to the crime and keep her in custody_.

'Victor Arabel was the head of Atlas Medical Insurances. He was the one who turned down Milla's request for a synthetic arm,' Dorian said softly when he saw John had finished reading.

Emilia… Milla… Redding… Redmond… Did she... had Milla been desperate enough to... _kill_? He saw her face again, the flushed cheeks, her resistance when he said she should be proud of what she had done. If - and that was a big if - she had murdered this Victor Arabel, his words would have cut through her soul. She could never feel pride with that knowledge.

He sighed and suddenly felt very tired. It all began to make sense.

Once the dust had settled, John tried to contact her. Much to his surprise, her phone was disconnected and there were no records of a new number in her name. In fact, he couldn't find anything about her at all. He payed a streetwise kid some credits to get to her place and hand her a note, but the boy came back and told him there was no one home, and the apartment looked abandoned. John wished he could have gone himself, but it was still too dangerous for him. After all, his face was connected to the raid the other day and – as Milla had said – people in The Swamp didn't take kindly to police.  
He remembered how she had been cautious to let him call the bureau. Years of living in The Swamp made her suspicious and careful. Her reluctance might have just saved his life outside The Swamp as well.  
It was an unsatisfying feeling. He wanted to thank her properly, that weird, somewhat unworldly girl, but she had disappeared. Left. And he was pretty certain that she could stay hidden for a long, long time if she wanted to. She had told him that she had a job and payed taxes, but there was nothing on record – anywhere. She had just vanished of the face of the earth. He didn't doubt for a second that she had the technical know-how to stay out of sight. But he wouldn't give up, one day he would find her and express his gratitude properly.

Dorian's find cast a new light on Milla. There was a very clear reason why she hid in the shadows. John ran a hand over his face. He remembered what she said, that there were good people in The Swamp, that not everyone was bad. _That sometimes circumstances forced good people to do bad things._

'Dorian… No one must ever know. Ever. You hear me? No telling the captain. Ever.'

'I understand.' Dorian nodded.

John looked up and met his partner's blue eyes. A while ago, Dorian would have followed protocol and gone over his head and informed the captain. But not now. The better they got to know each other, the smaller the gap became.

'Come on, we need coffee. Let's get outside.'

'I don't drink coffee, man.'

'But I do. You can answer the phone or send messages to the bureau while I enjoy a dark roast arabica drink.'

Behind John's back, Dorian put his index finger on the transparent sheet and tapped the trash symbol thrice while holding the shift symbol.

YOU ARE ABOUT TO ERASE THIS FILE PERMANENTLY. ARE YOU SURE? THIS OPERATION CAN NOT BE UNDONE. said the words on the sheet.

Dorian hesitated. Just for a second. Then he looked up and saw John, standing in the doorway, waiting for him and waving impatiently.

ERASE.

The end

_That's it, Humanites! My first long story about John and Dorian and the rest of the Almost Human fandom. I don't own them but I get to play with them. Comments are more than welcome. Please bear in mind that English is not my native language, so sorry for odd sentences and strange structures if you run into them! Thank you for reviewing, personal messages and other encouragement. Ta!  
_


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